Run
by Drey Trox
Summary: They need to help themselves and the others escape. Just one problem…they don’t have their powers.
1. Chapter 1

**Three days ago…**

_Phone call between Claire and Peter:_

"So, how long will they be gone for?"

"Not sure, probably a week or two"

"I'm surprised your mother agreed to go in the first place"

"Yeah, me too. With all the crap that has been going on, she has been a bit restless"

"I can imagine"

"A vacation would be good for her"

"Is Lyle going with her?"

"Yeah, though he's not that excited"

"Why? It's a cruise, why wouldn't it be exciting?"

"C'mon Peter, since when is a vacation with you and just your mom exciting?"

"Well, your mother is a lot more different than mine"

"…right"

"But I get what you're saying. I'm sure that it won't be so bad for him"

"I guess. There's this teen club thing on the cruise so I guess he'll have fun socializing…and whatnot. He's determined to gain a six pack within three days"

"Tell him I wish him luck"

"Ha, yeah"

"So you'll be staying alone?"

"Yeah, so it'll be me, schoolwork, and a crapload of DVD's for two weeks"

"…are you sure it's a good idea?"

"What, are you going to tell me to do something more active or something?"

"No, not that"

"Peter, don't tell me you don't trust me to stay on my own"

"Not that I don't trust you…"

"You just think it's dangerous"

"Claire, you know a lot has happened, and I just think you shouldn't be alone"

"I'm seventeen years old, Peter. I can handle myself"

"Yeah, but-"

"I can _heal_ myself. If some robber breaks in and shoots me, I'll be picture perfect within seconds"

"I'm not talking about robbers…"

"Right…Sylar"

"I just think it would be best if you stayed with someone. A friend, someone on the cheer team…your dad"

"Peter…"

"Alright, I'm sorry, but you should stay with someone"

"Not to sound like a total ass, but I don't think I can stand an overly preppy cheerleader for more that seven hours, and my dad is…y'know"

"Yeah, I know. But Claire-"

"I'll be fine"

"…hey, I just had a weird idea"

"Oh no"

"No, it's nothing scary; at least I hope it's not"

"What is it?"

"You can always…y'know…you can stay with me if you'd like"

"Seriously? I mean, you don't have to"

"Sure I do, you're my niece"

"Well…I don't know"

"C'mon, we can do…cool stuff. You know, uncle niece bonding stuff. It'll be fun…ish"

"I don't want to be a burden"

"If I'd thought you'd be a burden, I wouldn't be inviting you in the first place"

"Again, you don't have to"

"I _want_ to"

"…fine"

"Great, so I'll pick you up the day your mom and brother are leaving?"

"Well, unless you want to wake up at five in the morning, you could always pick me up the day after or something"

"Five is fine. I'm used to waking up that early anyways"

"Okay then. I'll tell my mom"

"Alright, I'm sure she'll be fine with it"

"Kay, bye Peter"

"Alright, see you later"

They hang up.

**Present Day**

_Claire's Prov:_

While I was packing my stuff in five in the morning, I couldn't help but wonder what Peter had mentioned, about how it was dangerous for me to be alone. I'd always had known that my life was anything but normal, no matter how much I tried to be. Going to high school, becoming a cheerleader, it was all just me shielding myself from the truth; I was in just sheer denial. And then Sylar came; he made everything so…complicated, so scary. Will it always be like this? Will I always be a victim? I don't want to live my life in fear, I don't want to live my life not knowing if I'd be assaulted; if my head won't be sliced open. There's this sense of fear that I could…break down; that I won't be strong enough. What I won't be strong enough for is still not drilled in my brain yet. I can heal physically, but the pain is still there, and I am grateful for it. It shows that there's still an ounce of human in me.

"Claire?" the sudden voice startled me, and when I glanced up I found Peter leaning back against the wall, his eyes locked on me. He must have been there for quite some time, "Hey" I forcefully put a smile on my face. "Your mom let me in. She seems a bit edgy" Figures. I frown just a bit, but it wasn't noticeable. I pay attention back to my clothes, pushing in as much as I could into the suitcase, "Yeah, she still isn't settled about the idea of a vacation" He walks over, and I could tell that he knows something is up by his look. I keep my focus on 'packing' despite the fact that there wasn't much to pack anymore. While I continued to shove the random clothing into the bag he sits on the edge of the bed next to it, "Are you okay?" His voice seems dim and careful so he made it difficult to lie. Lying is becoming difficult. It should have came easy, but each time I do the regret is building up in the pit of my stomach and at times I feel like I'm going to burst, "Yeah, fine" the melancholy tone ceased to stop itself from slipping out, and Peter is obviously not convinced.

He leans forward to prompt his forearms on his knees, burnished colored eyes flickering up at me, "You sure? It's either you were just staring at the same piece of clothing for five minutes just because you were wondering if you liked the color, or something's wrong" I drop whatever I was holding in my hands into the bag. There were doubtlessly many answers to that. A lot is wrong, but I am so tired of asking help. I reply with a soft sigh and shake my head. Peter tilts his head, "What's up, Claire" I shrug my shoulders and look at my wooden floor, keeping my eyes locked on nothing particular. There were things that were easy to express, and there were things that couldn't be expressed in words. Peter is already worried about me to start with, and sharing all my doubts, all my fears wouldn't make things any better. Not that I know how he would react all to it. I'm not supposed to be a burden, so I had no intention on sharing to anyone. Fingers run along the side of my arm and I didn't have a choice but to look at him and it was evident that he was concerned.

"I'm fine" but we both knew that was bullshit. Both brows of his elevated up and I knew that he was aware that something wasn't quite right. There was no need for words. I couldn't lie to him and say that everything was rainbow sunshine perfect because it was not. No matter how much I wished it would be. I shake my head and raked my hand over my blonde hair, "I don't want to talk about it" I kept my voice in a low whisper, hoping it wouldn't sound too broken. He nods his head, fully understanding. While he was concerned, I know that he wouldn't pursue the subject if I didn't wish to. Sometimes I feel that I'm pushing people away, and I'm just not aware of it. My mother, my friends, they just don't understand what it's like. Closing up my bag, I zip it up and sighed, not sure of what to say now. I could still feel Peter's gaze locked on me, worrying. I wouldn't blame him, I am a bit difficult to handle. I guess that's why I always get myself in so much trouble; I'm just so damn stubborn. "So, you ready?" I look up at him, glad the conversation didn't move on and nod my head, "Yeah" I grab my bag and he stands up walking with me to the door and outside to the car.

"Okay baby, I won't be gone for too long" my mother's tight brace wasn't alien to me, but it was always surprising on how much she worried for me. I return the hug with less power for she was literally constricting me like a snake, "Alright mom" and when I thought her hug couldn't tighten, it did and I found myself rolling my eyes. "I'll be back before you know it" she pulls back and places both her hands on my shoulders staring at me with worried eyes, "Are you sure it would be fine for me to leave? I can call and cancel my trip, really-" before she could finish her sentence I shake my head interrupting her, "No mom, you need this. Go have a good time" I realize it would be hard for her to have a good time, but she'll try, I know her. She nods at me, the same worried look never leaving her face. I look over her shoulder to find Lyle leaning back against the mailbox post with his hands in his pockets, "Well, don't get too excited now, Lyle" I comment with sarcasm obviously peering through my lips. He rolls his eyes at me, "Whatever" I walk pass my mother to ruffle his hair; even if he's taller than me, "It won't be that bad" He just rolls his eyes again.

Turning around, I found my mother talking to Peter, "Peter, take care of her, okay?" He smiles his crooked smile at her, "Of course. She'll be safe with me" My mother nods her head and looks to the ground, "I know, I know" her voice is softer than usual. Is she that afraid? Does she lack that much faith? Am I that in danger? My thoughts were interrupted by Peter clearing his throat. I walk over to the passenger seat and open the door, and while I was halfway in I hear Lyle's voice call for me. Astonished, I look over my shoulder and waited. It's as if he was very hesitant to tell me, almost embarrassed. Now I really want to know what's going on. While he didn't answer, I tilt my head, "Well?" He puts his fist to his mouth clearing his throat yet again, "I…uh…" I cock a brow at him, surprised still, "What is it Lyle?" He gives me a look that I can't comprehend, "Be careful Claire" I roll my eyes and found myself smiling, "Aren't I always?" "Seriously" Wow, he's actually being grave, "I will" He gives me a sheepish smile before I go into the car.

Peter starts up the car and pulls out of the curb, and as I look in the mirror I see my mother waving at me. I pull down the window and extend my hands out giving them one wave before putting it back into the car. I don't get why this is such a big deal, it's just vacation. Sure, a lot of shit had happened but still… I mean, I get why they would be worried. Danger does tend to follow me a lot. I lean back into the leather seat of the car taking in a deep breath. It's probably five thirty; the sun is barely in the sky. The air is moist and it's quiet. The silence is nice; it's not hollow like I always find it to be. It's almost relaxing. The car engine is all I hear, and I find that sound to be soothing. This is the time of day that I find peaceful, in the wee hours of the morning. Was it the air, the smell, how the sun barely lights up the surface? No, I believe the reason why I love this time of day is because…well, it seems like the safest time of day. You don't find a robber breaking into a bank at five in the morning, or a murder at this time.

I could feel my eyelids starting to get heavy. I didn't get much sleep last night. It wasn't the nightmares really, just the fact that I was thinking too much. I can't remember what was filling into my brain, but it kept me preoccupied for a long time. "So, what time did you sleep last night" Peter's voice pierced through the silence. He could tell that I was tired. I shrug my shoulders; "Late" Three hours of sleep wasn't entirely charming. I look into the mirror and found bags forming under my eyes. Thank you cover up. "You can sleep when we get to my place" His voice was soft, and I liked the way he didn't ask why I slept so late if I knew that I would have to wake up so early. That's what I liked about Peter; he never pried his nose into anything that didn't involve him. Wish I could say the same for myself. I shake my head, "No, I'm fine" Once I wake up, I wake up, there isn't a way for me to go back to sleep. He nods his head and looks back out onto the road. I couldn't lie; I did feel like sleeping though. There was always something about a car that I could just pass out in. The feel of the mobile, I don't know but it always had ways to get me tired.

"So, what time does school start" I could feel he was trying to whip up a conversation. Not that I was in the mood for it. I shake my head, "I'm on vacation, off for the entire week" He nods his head and tries his best to focus on the road "Ah, right" Peter could be a bit awkward when he was in the mood for it. The rest of the ride was smooth and quiet. It wasn't so awkward for the whole ride to be silent. I think that we're both two people that didn't mind the quiet, no matter how contrary that was for others. As we arrived to his apartment, we get out and he takes my bags because he's a natural gentleman like that. I don't even bother to ask if he wanted help with him. My bags were light; I usually don't pack much but the essentials. We arrive into his room and I spotted him fumble with the keys in his one palm, so I grab my bag and he smiles almost sheepishly at me as he opens the door. The place was normal, what any other apartment would be like. I follow him as he walks in and he closes the door behind me. His arm extends out once before falling back onto his sides, "Well, this is it"

I look around. It's a lot cleaner than I expected it to be. Usually guys tended to be on the…messy side. I appreciated it, because I don't know if I could live in a frat boy kind of house. I smile softly at him as I set my bag next to TV, "Very nice" I commented. He takes my bag and walks into the room. Where is he going? I followed him wherever he was going, which seemed to be his room. He sets my bag on the mattress. "You can get my bed. I'll stay on the couch" Whoa, hold up. I didn't want to be a bother to him, so I shook my head, "No, Peter, I'll-" "It's okay" he interrupted with a smile, "I want to" I'm way to tired to even argue, so I sat on the edge of the bed and raked my hand over my blonde hair, "Thanks Peter" He smiles, "No problem" he walks to the door and begins to close the door, "I'll let you get settled in" I nodded my head, and then I was alone.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Three Days Later…**

I sit on his couch; my legs perched up on his coffee table staring at my polka-dotted socks. I guess I was that distracted when I was packing. I still haven't opened up about my…insecurities, or whatever the hell you want to call them. I've read and heard over and over again about how it's not a good idea to bottle up your emotions. It only makes things worse. But it's not me to bide to what people say. I sigh to myself and continued to flip the channels. There's nothing on TV, figures. I'm not really the type to watch TV a lot. But it's vacation. Any normal girl would be partying, hanging out with her friends, talking to some boy, gossiping. I sigh again and rub my temples. How many times do I have to remind myself; I am not a normal girl. I will _never_ be a normal girl. I need to get that illusion of it out of my head. I need to stop brainwashing myself. I need to start dreaming and face the factuality of it. My life will always suck…wow, that didn't sound EMO. I flipped to MTV, and the show Scarred was on.

I tilt my head as I see a man skateboard down the ramp, then fall flat on his nose. I didn't even flinch. The camera focuses up onto the face, where you could see his nose cracked, blood all over the place, gush almost squirting out. Most would feel sorry for him; but no. I envy him. If that were me, all I'd have to do was crack the bones into the right place and I'd be picture perfect. I stare at the television, and watch them operate on his face. I wouldn't need that. I never needed any medical attention. I'm watching the aftermath, and he has scars. _Scars._ I want scars! I want proof that I'm human. Sure, blood stains would be there, but you could always blame tomato juice for that. My hand rakes over my messy curls, "Look I me" I almost scold to myself. I envy a guy who broke his nose and God knows what else, I can push my bones back together and I want scars while normal people would want to get rid of them. I'm such a freak. Even people with abilities would look at me as a freak. A seventeen year old freak. How charming.

I hear the door turn and I quickly change the channel to American Idol. Ew, I always despised that show. I turn my head and I see Peter walk in with two large brown paper bags in his arm. I chuckled slightly, "No take out for today?" While he kicks the door shut behind him, he walks to the kitchen and sets the bags on the counter, "You know what Claire? I've been thinking" Thinking? "Should I be scared" He smiles and shakes his head, "No, no. Well, kind of" I turn my body and lean up trying to spot what was in the bag. Tomatoes? Pasta? …A cheese grater? "Peter, what's going on?" my voice is slow and hesitant as I turn my body and stand up. Peter reaches into his duffel back, pushes aside the bandages, and such and grabs a wrinkled paper, "This, is up" he throws it to me and I catch it, nearly slipping off of my fingers. I unfold it, flattening it out straight and held it in front of me. I cock a brow and tilt my head. It's either he's trying to kill me, or he's trying to kill me. I look up at him and raise both brows, "It's a recipe"

He nods his head and grabs a blushed colored tomato, "Yup" I walk over and reach into the bag, looking through it. There's olive oil, parsley, garlic, and a lot more, "You're gonna cook?" I ask him. I thought Peter could cook since we ate Chinese take out these past few days. He shakes his head and I tilt mine, "No" he says and I suddenly get scared, "_We_ are going to cook" I let out an obnoxious, humorless laugh and look at him again. Fuck. I sigh and look at him again, "You're serious, aren't you" This is probably his attempt for some uncle, niece, bonding thing he briefly mentioned. He smiles and nods his head at me, "One hundred percent serious" Yeah, it's the bonding thing. I can't cook, maybe some Pesto Pasta, but that's it. I nearly burned down my school during cooking class. I don't want to burn down Peter's apartment, that's just beyond being a burden. I sigh and shake my head looking back at the crinkled paper, "Okay, the Penne…all'…arra…biata doesn't sound too hard" I struggled with the word and furrowed my brows as I try to pronounce it. He smiles crookedly and throws me the tomatoes, "Well, start chopping"

Easy enough. I grab the tomatoes and lay out the cutting board. Peter walks over to one of the cup boards while I start slicing up the fruit and grabs out a pan. He takes out the olive oil and sprinkles it onto the pan, "Uh, is there a limit on how much I put in?" he asks me dumbly. I shrug my shoulders, "I don't know, check the paper" "I thought you took cooking classes" he laughs as he adds a dash more. I shake my head, "Yeah, in middle school" I continue to cut the tomatoes and Peter looks over the recipe. This is such a bad idea; two people trying to cook something that I can't even pronounce! I look at him scratch his head as he's staring at the paper and I couldn't help but laugh out of amusement. Seriously? He's never cooked before? Well, can't say that I'm surprised. He's a guy…well, maybe I am a bit surprised. "Hey, what's the difference between finely chopped and roughly chopped?" I tilt my head. There's a difference? I just thought chopping was chopping. This isn't going out so well. "Uhh…" I stammered, "Wing it?" He laughs and shakes his head, "I'm almost afraid how this is going to turn out"

_Half an hour later…_

"Well…I think we did good" I smile and look at our work of art that laid in front of us on the counter. Peter smiles at me, tomato still in splotches over his face just like mine, "I'm just surprised we didn't burn down the apartment" he admits. I laugh and grab two towels, throwing one to Peter as we wipe ourselves down. I never thought cooking would be so messy. Well, messier than it should be. I actually had fun. I haven't had any fun in a long time. I usually spent my day with deep thought and such. It feels nice to relax, even if I did stain my new white T-shirt. It was worth it, and the bonding thing wasn't so bad. I grab two plates and Peter takes a serving spoon, scooping up our lovely art into the plates and as he did his elbow hit the knife which tumbled off of the counter. Out of instinct I shot my hand out and grabbed the knife, clutching it on the blade side. I could feel the sharp edge slice into my skin and I wince at the pain. "Claire" Peter whispers my name and sets the plates on the counter before grabbing a paper towel and wetting it.

I stand up straight and unlatch my fist around the blade, pulling it out of my palm biting my lip as I did. Peter takes my wrist gently and we both watch as the wounds close up within seconds. Sighing softly, he takes the wet paper towel and wipes away the blood from my palm, "You need to be careful" he said and I immediately flicker my eyes up at him, "I heal, Peter" I reminded him and he just threw the paper towel out, "Doesn't take away the pain" he retorted before grabbing the plates and dismissing the future subject, "C'mon, we can have a TV dinner" he smiles. I sigh and I walk next to him on the couch, taking a bite of our food and surprisingly it wasn't all that bad. We both place our feet on the coffee table in as an echo gesture. I kind of wanted to know what was going through his head when he saw the knife cut my palms. My mother is naturally worried because, well, she's my mother, and my brother is used to it. I'm used to it. It's hard to see what others are thinking when they see something like that happen.

As I had mentioned before, I believe that we are two people that don't mind the silence. Which is nice. I can't have just a quiet dinner with my family without it being awkward. I have no idea what we're watching now; all I know is that Peter changed it some time ago. And thank God for that; don't know if I could stand American Idol. I focus on the channel and see that Nathan is on the TV and I look next to me. Peter looks focused, serious, and I sigh looking back. Things haven't been well with him and his brother and I sigh, "Um…we can watch something else, you know" He snaps out of some sort of daydreaming and quickly grabs the remote, "Oh, uh, yeah" he changes the channel and I groan when I see what's on, "American Idol? Seriously?" He probably changed the channel intentionally, but I don't know, I just really hate that show. Paula annoys the hell out of me. He looks my way and chuckles, "Hey, Cara is hot" I find my eyes roll with an absent mind and shake my head, "Half of these people aren't even going to go anywhere, so why bother trying to win something they barely have a chance in" Peter tilts his head and, "Ouch, that's a bit harsh. So you wouldn't support me if I sign up for next year?" We both laugh and I don't even bother answering to that question.

"Hey" he said after a moment of silence. I slurp my pasta and flicker my eyes to him and answer with a hum. "I'm off tomorrow" he said and I wipe off the sauce on my lip wondering where this is going and answer again with a simple hum. I have a feeling this is going to be more bonding time between us, not that I'm complaining. "So" he said stretching it out, "I say we go somewhere" I finish off my plate quickly and tilt my head. Go somewhere, there's not really anything interesting in New York City. Well, I don't think so. I've been there so many times, there's really nothing to see. "Where?" I ask him. He takes another bite of the pasta, moving his eyes somewhere as he thinks. I don't know much about Peter's interests, but I'm willing to learn. He is my uncle after all. His shoulders shrug, "I don't know. Anywhere. We can just drive" He takes my empty plate along with his and walks to the kitchen. I turn my body and tilt my head, "Just drive?" I echoed. He washes off the plates and fills up two glasses with water, "Yeah, and wherever we feel like going, we'll go" It was simple enough, and something I can handle. He hands me the glass of water and sits next to me. We both take a sip in a mirror like way and I shrug my shoulders, "Sure, why not" He smiles and grabs the remote, "Cool. So, guess what I'm dying to watch right now?" I tilt my head and he grins as he switches the channel, "American Idol" "I hate you sometimes"

_Next Morning…_

I look at myself in the mirror, smoothing out my brown sweater and straightening it out. My fingers run through my blonde hair, pushing it up into a ponytail. I had a dream last night. Just a dream, not a nightmare. It wasn't happy either. It was me, Peter, Mom, Dad, Lyle, and Nathan watching TV. Just watching. I was sitting on the couch Indian style, and under me on the floor was Peter, sitting with his arm perched on his knee. Lyle was next to me too, tossing a worn out football up in the air and catching it. Mom and Dad were leaning against the couch, just staring, and just watching. Nathan was behind the couch, his hand resting on the top edge of it. I don't know what we were watching. I can't remember. I don't know if it's supposed to mean something, or is it just a dream. Weird things always seem to follow me; it will probably come up sometime in my life. For now, I guess I'll just set it aside. I look at the time, and raked my hand over the back of my neck. I have no idea what Peter plans for today are, but looking at our fun last night, I'm sure it won't be bad.

I walk out of the bathroom and see that Peter isn't anywhere to be in sight. I thought he would be back by now. Getting gas for the car shouldn't take that long. "Peter?" I call out. I pause in my tracks. Something's not right. I can feel it. There's something in my gut that tells me to run. But I can't, I have to find Peter. Slowly I walk to the kitchen, grabbing a knife before looking back at Peter's room, seeing the door cracked open. That's funny; I remember closing it before I went into the bathroom. I walk slowly and flattened my palm against the white wood, pushing it open slowly. Then, on the bed Peter is knocked out unconscious with a man hovering over him, "Peter!" I yelled. I charge for the man with the hooded face, fury boiling in my blood. But I stop. I feel something in my shoulder, and I drop my knife, taking out whatever hit me and gasp softly, "A tranquilizer" My vision gets blurry and I fall to the floor. The last thing I see is a man with a black mask pushing me flat on my spine, cuffing my hands, before my world goes black.

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	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, I used a translator for one part of this chapter, and some of it might not be right. Just saying._

_NEW CHARACTER: Johnny. I visualized his face to be like Jensen Ackles if you wanted a visual._

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My head hurts. My head hurts _so_ badly. It's like a million drills are getting it on with my brain. I try to move, but every inch I do it hurts even more. Whatever happened, it's still taking a ghastly toll on me. All I remember last night was getting hit with that tranquilizer; like a dog. My eyelids crack open an inch, and it's dark. My eyesight is blurry and I can't make anything out. There's a ray of light and my eyes flicker to the source, which is a small opening in the ceiling. I'm not alone; I can hear groans of pain around me. And we're moving. Wherever the hell I am, it sure it isn't in Peter's place…Peter! My eyes widened and I shot up so quickly only to have my head spinning like crazy. My hand clutches on my forehead and when I do, I look at my wrist and there's a silver band with the numbers 243 on it. What does that mean? I look down and see that I am in blue baggy clothing and then I look around me. There are probably twenty people in the back of this truck. Or whatever this is. "P-Peter?" I call out, my voice dry for a moment. I try to stand up, only to fall back down again, "Peter?" I call out a bit more loudly.

"Shut the hell up, will ya! Some people are trying to sleep" I frown and dart my head to the source, "Where am I" I ask obviously furious. I see a rather large man leaning against the corner, "Where you do think you are? Where in a damn truck, girl" There are bodies all over the floor, some seem to be lifeless. Is this Nathan's doing? Or is this something else? Well, I doubt that. And I wonder why my life will never be normal; it's filled with crazy people. I look around, trying to find the familiar face. Carefully, I stand up on my two feet, which was difficult due to the bump ride. My arms spread out as I balance myself, "Peter?" I call out and start to walk over the bodies, "Peter, Peter, where are you?" "Face it girl" the man from before said, "You won't be finding your boyfriend here in this mess" I glare at him with harsh eyes and gritted my teeth, "He's _not_ my boyfriend. He's my uncle" I corrected as I go back to searching him. I bend down to turn the bodies trying to spot their faces. They all have silver band, just like me. Where are they taking us? To some laboratory or something? I call out his name two, three more times, but no answer.

"Rest yourself girl, you're never going to find him in this mess" His voice is soft, almost sympathetic. But I'm not going to give up, I have to find him. Grunting, I ignore the man and move around the bodies I've already checked, all wearing the same attire as myself. I hear his sigh, "He might not even be on this truck" he commented and I turn my head. Not _this_ truck. There's more than one truck? What is this, where are they taking us? "There's more than one truck?" I asked him. He nods his head, "Yeah, ten of them" "Ten?!" I echoed and he creased his brows at me, "Lower your voice. No need to yell" "No need to yell?!" My arms flew everywhere in anger, "I don't know where the fuck I am, my uncle is God knows where, and you expect me not to yell?!" He rubbed his forehead and looked at me, "You yell anymore, and they're gonna come back here" "Who? Who's gonna come back here?" He looks over my shoulder for a brief second before looking at me, "Them" Eyes widening, I look behind my shoulder to see a masked man with a gun, and before I could do anything, he shot me. With a tranquilizer. Great, just great. I fall onto the floor, and pass out.

_Few hours later…_

I'm sitting up, but I have no idea where I am. It's like it's happening all over again; my head is spinning, it hurts like hell, and I can barely open my eyes. I crack my lids just an inch and I can feel that I'm not in a truck anymore. I'm in a room, and hell; it's cold. To prevent what had happened before, I open my eyes slowly, groaning from the pain in my head as I did. Once I did, I see a man, sitting off to the side and once I made another noise he looked at me and I froze. He's wearing the same blue clothing as I am, and has an exact band over his wrist like mind. He stands up and I can feel panic boil in my blood as he walks over to me, but he kneels down and gives me a soft smile, still, I don't trust him. There are too many people in this world who lie like a bitch. "Hey there" he said with a soft tone, "You're finally up" I look around and we're in some kind of dark cell. I can't make out the room because I was way to out of it, so I look back at the man in front of me, "Where…where am I?" His eyes stare down at me, they were so green it was almost intoxicating. As if he was trying to avoid an answer, he stands up and grabs a glass of water and then a towel handing both to me, "Here, put this on your head" Too tired, I take the water and the towel, only drinking a sip before setting it down on the concrete floor.

He kneels in front of me, his expression nothing but kind. It makes me wonder about him even more. Wonder if he really has nice intentions, or if he's just sick like the rest of them. His clothing is like mine, which gives me the reason to think he's just a prisoner too. What kind isn't really set in stone in my head just yet. "What's your name?" My eyes flicker up at him, not as kind as I should be. "Claire" He smiles and nods his head, "I'm Johnny" he pauses for a moment and just stares at me, "so…how are you feeling?" I groan and rub my head with the towel, "Like shit" he chuckles softly and it's hard not to feel a bit safe around him, "Don't worry. It'll pass soon" I sit up Indian style as I look around. There are more people in the same blue attire, some of them passed out, and some of them in my stage. But there's only about five of us here. "Where am I?" I repeated slowly and he takes his stare away from me. This is obviously not good, "Where. Am. I" I repeated harshly. He sighs softly, and takes the abandoned glass of water and dumps it to the side in a sink. I wait, and wait, and wait for his respond and each second of waiting, it's becoming unbearable.

I sit there, holding my breath as he turns to look at me and he rests his hand on his side while the other rubs his temples. "Last time I heard, I think we're in Venice" My eyes widens. Venice?! Like Italy Venice? What is this, who would do this? I shot up only to tumble down. Johnny quickly shoots his hands out to steady me and sit me down, "Careful" he said, "you need to rest" I furrow my brows and stare at the man shocked, "Venice?!" "I think" he ads, "I'm not sure" I wave my hands out, "You think?! Oh yeah, that makes things a whole lot better" He sighs and takes the towel to put it to my forehead, but I violently push it away, "Where am I, why am I here?" he looks around before turning back to me, "Are you-" he pauses, as if he's trying to reword his sentence, "do you have an ability?" he asks me and I groan as it all starts making sense. "Nathan" I say once, "Nathan Petrelli is doing this, isn't he?" He looks at me and his response isn't what I thought it would be. He looks confused, bewildered actually, "Nathan Petrelli?" he repeats, "who's Nathan Petrelli?" I shake my head obviously confused and looked at him, "You mean, Nathan Petrelli isn't doing this?" he shakes his head at me, "No, I actually have no idea who's doing this to be honest. All I know is a group of powerful people from China are rounding up people with abilities"

"China?!" I repeated, "then why are they in Italy? Why are they in America? What are they doing to us?" If this isn't Nathan, who are these people? "They travel all over the world, gathering people. America was their last destination; being as it is the most powerful country. They have been at this for ten years" "Ten years?!" I yelled, "and you didn't do anything to stop it? You're a bunch of people who have abilities for God's sake!" He hushes me down by placing a hand on my shoulder, "Hey, hey, you need to calm down. No yelling" "How the hell-" "Hey" he interrupts me again, "You yell, and I won't explain. Now, no yelling, okay?" I cross my arms and blow a strand of hair away from my face, "Fine" He looks at me and then takes my wrist, "You see this band?" he asks, "I don't know how, but it prevents us from using our power" he looks at my band and for a split second there's an expression that I can't comprehend. I look at him and frown, "Why can't you just take it off? I'm sure there's a hell of a lot ways to break it" "You don't think we've tried? I've been here for six years, and I've tried a shitload of ways to break this thing, but it's indestructible" I pause before saying anything and tilt my head in disbelief, "You've been here for six years?" I asked him softly. He nods his head.

I stopped, and I can't help but feel bad for him. He's been stuck in this hell hole for six years? And I'm bitching around and I haven't been here for more than 24 hours. My eyes flicker to him, my look strong and determined, "I'm going to get you out of here" He laughs, one soft humorless laugh, "And how do you plan on doing that?" "I don't know, anything. Get them off guard, sneak attack, anything" Both his brows rise and stare at me, "Look" he said softly, "there's two hundred people with abilities, none of them could break the band and none of them could escape. It's easy if you just don't fight it" I stop, because no matter how much I don't want to admit it, he does have a point. "Why do they want us?" I asked. His shoulders shrugged, which wasn't the reaction I was looking for, "I don't know. All they told us was that they were going to round us up first before they tell us anything…" I don't ask any more questions, because I need to find him. I need to find Peter. I stand up slowly, and he has his arms out ready just incase I fall again. Once I'm up, I look at him with furrowed brows, "I need to find someone" He cocks a brow at me, his arms still out just incase, "Who?" he asks. Slowly, I begin to walk and I could feel his hand on my back helping me as I go, "My uncle. His name is Peter"

He nods his head slowly and turns his head around until he sees someone walk it with a bucket and a towel over his shoulder. "Reilly" he calls out and the man looks at Johnny, "Wo sind die neuen menschen?" I cock my head to the side as he speaks a language that is somewhat familiar. The man gestures his head out the opening, and it looks like we were in some sort of tent, "Sie sind Zelt L" Johnny nods his head, "Danke" he looks down at me and nudges his head forward, "C'mon, I think I know where your uncle is" While he walks me out of the tent, I look up at him, "Was that German?" I ask him out of sheer curiosity. He nods his head, "Yeah, well, once you're in a place with foreign people, it's helpful to learn the basics of their language. Some of them don't talk English you know" Once I walk out, I gasp softly at what I see. It's like what you see in those war movies. Many, many tents were set up, far along the horizon I see tall, _massive_ electrical fences put up. It reminds me of the Holocaust, a movie I saw in it. Except people wore blue clothing and weren't sick. There are letters on each tent. I see A1 through ten and then it goes from B1 through ten and so on. I look around and I see that we are headed to Tent L.

Walking in, it looks the same as the other tent I was in. Johnny was still next to me, supporting me up and I look around, trying to find someone. And there, sitting on the side was him, being helped by a woman. It was an echo sight to what Johnny was doing to me the first time I woke up. "Peter!" I yelled. His eyes shoot up at me and stands from his position, "Claire!" His voice is low and husky, obviously tired. I run towards him, stumbling a bit as I clash into him, my arms wrapping around his waist. The force of my hug made Peter fall back against the wall, and I could feel his large arms wrap around me. We hug for a few moments before he pulls back and holds me from the arms, "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes staring at me intently, "Are you hurt?" I shake my head, "No, no, I'm fine. Johnny helped me" I look over my shoulder and his gaze follows mine, and Johnny was in the middle of talking to someone until he looks at Peter and smiles faintly. Peter nods his head once at him from gratitude. I could hear him curse under his breath, "I swear to God I'm going to kill Nathan" "Nathan isn't doing this" I quickly corrected him. "A group of people who created a company they call Da-Xia" Johnny said jumping in. Peter was just as confused as I was, but looks down at me, "C'mon, we're going to get out of here"

I pause, remembering what Johnny had told me. I shake my head, "No Peter, we can't. These people are too powerful" He looks down at me in disbelief, "What, what do you mean? What are they doing?" I sigh and rub the back of my head, "They're doing what Nathan is doing, capturing people with abilities. I just don't know why they're doing it. They have been at it for ten years, Peter. I don't think we'll be able to do this alone if they were able to contain two hundred people for that long" I explained. Whatever their strategy was, it was hell of a good one.

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